


Private Show

by poisonivory



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Frottage, Lapdance, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Pole Dancing, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Voyeurism, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonivory/pseuds/poisonivory
Summary: Okay. This was fine. Jason had zero leads on the crime boss he’d gone undercover to find, was a third of the way through a striptease despite not knowing how to dance, and the ex-best friend he’d walked out on six months ago was sitting practically close enough to touch and toasting him with a glass of what had better be club soda. He’d dealt with worse.He had no idea if Roy had known he was there or if this was just a horrible coincidence, but fine. Roy wanted to watch? Jason would give him a show.-For the kinkmeme prompt: "Jason goes undercover as a stripper."
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 20
Kudos: 324





	Private Show

**Author's Note:**

> This is set roughly six months after the end of Red Hood/Arsenal but Heroes in Crisis is definitely not a thing. Also pole dancing is much more difficult than this fic implies, even if you were trained by the world's greatest detective. Nice try, Jason.
> 
> Warning: There is the unconfirmed possibility that the sex is being watched or filmed, but Jason and Roy are like "YOLO" (well, "YOLT" in Jason's case) because I guess that's just how Outlaws roll.

Jason hadn’t expected to enjoy this.

He’d tracked this particular crime boss clear across the country and ended up in Star City, where he _really_ didn’t want to be. He didn’t know this city the way he knew Gotham or even New York or Bludhaven; he couldn’t read its patterns, didn’t know its secrets. He couldn’t even figure out their weird fucking light rail system—just get a goddamn subway, seriously.

(There was another reason he didn’t want to be in Star City. But he wasn’t thinking about that.)

He’d taken a job as a waiter at one of the sleaziest strip clubs he’d ever seen because he’d picked up a tip that his target had been seen there. “You dance?” the manager had asked, eyeing Jason up and down like he was a side of beef. Which, Jason supposed, he was.

“I thought this was a waiter job,” Jason said.

The manager shrugged, rolling a stained toothpick around in his mouth. “Sometimes one of the dancers calls in sick. Waiters need to sub in. You dance?”

“...Sure,” Jason had said.

And now sure enough, one of the dancers had called in sick, and Jason was in someone else’s borrowed—and hopefully clean—clothes. Well, what was left of them—the tie had gone flying into the audience early on, and the button-down was in the corner of the tiny stage where he wouldn’t trip on it, leaving him in a too-tight white undershirt and dress pants that he was currently teasing at the fly of while rolling his hips to the sound of “Love on the Brain” pounding over the club’s shitty speakers.

He had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t really know how to dance, Alfred’s instructions in the waltz when he was thirteen notwithstanding, and he _definitely_ didn’t have a routine.

 _Bruce_ would’ve had a routine, probably. Dick would have winged it, but so gracefully no one could tell. Tim...okay, the Replacement would fucking suck at this, which made Jason feel a little bit better.

But Jason had always been prone to improvising, and had a reasonably good sense of rhythm, and no one seemed to care if he could _dance_ after the first backflip. And the whistles and catcalls every time he rocked his hips forward or teasingly lifted the bottom of his tank top for a hint at his abs, well…

Jason could admit that he liked attention. Some people might say that almost everything he _did_ was a ploy for attention. (Harley Quinn had once very convincingly argued exactly that while he attempted to stop her from robbing a Jell-O factory. It was really annoying.)

And even if this place was gross and the audience was seeded with career criminals and the stage was disconcertingly sticky...Jason liked this attention, too.

He was on his knees, thighs spread and fly open as he rocked his hips up to the beat, when he caught a flash of red hair moving through the neon lighting of the club. He faltered and lost his rhythm. No, absolutely not, this was a city of nearly two million people and there was no fucking way that the _one person_ he didn’t want to see would—

Roy fucking Harper sat down in the front row, barely six feet from the stage, his eyes bright and amused.

God damn it to hell.

Okay. This was fine. Jason had zero leads on the crime boss he’d gone undercover to find, was a third of the way through a striptease despite not knowing how to dance, and the ex-best friend he’d walked out on six months ago was sitting practically close enough to touch and toasting him with a glass of what had better be club soda. He’d dealt with worse.

He had no idea if Roy had known he was there or if this was just a horrible coincidence, but fine. Roy wanted to watch? Jason would give him a show.

He rolled up off his knees and onto his feet, backed up until he hit the pole behind him, and reached up to grab it with both hands above his head. Then he arched his back and slid down into a squat, thighs spreading wide as he dropped. The audience cheered, and the corner of Roy’s mouth curled up.

Jason turned and dropped again, this time facing the pole. He couldn’t watch Roy’s reaction this way, but these pants were _just_ this side of too tight and he knew how his ass looked in them. The hoots from the audience seemed to agree.

Still facing away, he eased the waistband of the pants down an inch, just enough to show the top of the red, sparkly thong he was wearing. The audience roared.

Jason turned to face them. Roy wasn’t smiling anymore, and he’d put his glass down. Jason locked eyes with him and dropped his pants.

Roy swallowed visibly.

Something was surging through Jason, something hot and powerful, like anger but better. He kicked the pants away, reached down to cup himself through the thong that could barely hold him in before turning to show his bare ass to the crowd. Smirking at the very audible response, he sauntered back to the pole. He’d never done this before, but he’d done parkour and circus acrobatics (thanks, Dick), and how different could it be?

He gripped the pole and swung himself up, doing a couple of easy circuits to get the hang of it before trying anything fancy. Okay, yeah, he got this. Picking up momentum, he flipped himself upside down and wrapped his thighs around the pole, letting them spin him slowly while he pulled his tank top off. He tossed it straight at Roy, who caught it without taking his eyes off of Jason for a second.

It wasn’t easy. It was anything but easy. But shit, it felt _right_ , letting the music and his own momentum carry him through each move: stretching out until he was doing a full front split along the pole; showing off his strength with poses that left all his weight suspended in midair while he hung on with one hand; bracing himself with just his ankles so that he could roll his hips against the pole, his hands running through his hair. He ground himself backwards with the pole between his cheeks like he was trying to fuck himself on it, and he felt _powerful_.

And even as he fed on the energy of the screaming crowd, his eyes kept coming back to Roy, directly in front of him, watching him so closely, like they were the only two people in the room. Roy, sinking lower in his chair, his knees falling open like an invitation. Roy, who he’d missed so desperately these past six months.

Jason flipped himself upside down again, spread his legs in a perfect split, and prayed he didn’t get hard, because there was no _way_ that thong was containing him if he did.

He was actually surprised when the music ended, and thus his act. Dismounting from the pole with a flip—because why not show off if he could?—he bowed cheekily and walked off the stage, with one last glance at Roy. Roy looked...dazed, and now that Jason was quickly coming down from the high of performing, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or if he’d just made everything between them even worse.

Not that there _was_ anything between them. Not anymore.

He was guzzling a bottle of water backstage when the manager came up to him. “You undersold yourself, kid,” he said. “First performance and you already got a request for a lap dance.”

“Uh...I don’t…I’m just a waiter.” Fuck, Jason didn’t want some random letch pawing at him in a back room.

“Not after that dance, you’re not,” the manager said. “You’re in Room 3. Oh, and he said to tell you that you dance like...what the fuck was it…” He glanced at his phone. “...a real pretty bird, whatever the fuck that means.”

The back of Jason’s neck prickled with heat. So Roy wanted a lap dance, did he? Hm.

He didn’t bother to put anything on over the thong—what would be the point? He just made his way to Room 3 and let himself in. It was a small room, dimly lit with a red bulb, and the music from the stage pumped in.

And Roy was sitting on the single chair, the amused look back on his face and the glass back in his hand. He looked good, in a T-shirt and snug-fitting jeans, his hair grown out again and pulled into a messy bun.

“What are you drinking?” Jason asked, trying to keep his tone neutral as he closed the door behind him.

Roy raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s just seltzer,” he said, and a knot of worry in Jason’s chest eased. “I’m glad I got it, though. It was getting very… _warm_ out there.”

For the first time all night, Jason blushed.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Roy said. “I didn’t expect to see you in Star City—”

Quickly, Jason crossed the room and straddled Roy’s lap, lowering himself down until he was almost but not quite touching him. His hands went to Roy’s shoulders, and he felt Roy tense beneath him. “What are you—”

Jason leaned forward until he could whisper in Roy’s ear. “Cameras,” he said. Just because he hadn’t given anyone a lap dance didn’t mean he hadn’t swept the place for surveillance equipment. “And probably fucking peep holes for live viewing, too. This place is a pit.”

“Charming,” Roy murmured back, and Jason shivered as Roy’s breath hit his bare neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Anthony Gazzo. Trailed him from Gotham,” Jason said, rolling his hips. He couldn’t quite keep himself from brushing up against Roy as he moved. He couldn’t quite make himself mind, either.

“Small fucking world. Me too,” Roy said. “I mean, not the Gotham part, but…” He paused. “You wanna hunt him down together? Long as you’re here?”

Jason pulled back enough to look at him. Roy’s eyes were as open and earnest as they always were, and fuck, Jason should say no, or he was just going to end up where he’d been before. Wanting what he couldn’t have. What he didn’t _deserve_.

“Right,” Roy said when Jason didn’t answer. “Well, happy hunting.”

He started to get up, and Jason pushed him back down. “Gotta run out the clock,” he murmured. “How much did you pay?”

“Uh...two hundred bucks?”

Jason was so surprised he let his weight drop down, and suddenly he was sitting in Roy’s lap. Roy’s thighs were warm and solid through his jeans. “It’s twenty bucks a song. You just paid for half an hour, minimum. You got scammed, you moron.”

Roy didn’t meet his eyes. “Oops?”

Jason stared at him. “Wait. You _didn’t_ get scammed, did you? You just paid two hundred dollars to talk to me. When you already have my phone number.”

Now Roy looked back at him. “Would you have answered?”

Jason didn’t have a response to that. Roy looked away again. “You’re supposed to be dancing. Cameras, remember?”

Shit. Jason resumed his writhing on Roy’s lap, trying to find a happy medium between making it look good for whoever was watching, and...what? Keeping it from getting weird? It was already way past weird.

Under the pounding bass, the silence between them stretched out excruciatingly. Jason didn’t know where to look. Roy’s face, his broad chest, his lap beneath Jason’s spread thighs all felt too dangerous.

“Shit, okay, fine,” Roy said finally, leaning to the side and setting his glass down on the floor under the chair. “Gazzo aside...you honestly expected me to watch that and _not_ need to see you?” He bit his lip. “You looked...real good out there, Jaybird. I didn’t know you could pole dance.”

Jason ducked his head, even as he undulated against Roy’s lap. “I can’t really, I was just fucking around. Dick could probably do a better job.” Fuck, why did he have to bring _him_ up? Sure, he always felt like a poor substitute for Dick, especially around Roy. That didn’t mean he had to go out of his way to highlight the disparity.

“Oh, he would have been graceful as hell, but not as good as you,” Roy said, startling Jason. “He doesn’t have _these_ to hold on with.” His hands hovered just over Jason’s thighs, not quite touching. His voice shook slightly. “Fuck, Jason, you could smother a man with these thighs and he would die happy.”

Jason’s thighs tensed around Roy’s. He shouldn’t ask. He couldn’t _not_ ask. “Any man?”

Roy swallowed. “I. I would die happy,” he said, and Jason’s whole body went hot.

“Roy…”

“I don’t care if you knew what you were doing or not.” Roy still wasn’t making contact with Jason’s bare skin. “ _Nothing_ could be hotter than what I saw tonight. Nothing and no one.”

Jason looked up and met Roy’s heated gaze. His dick twitched inside the thong. “You can…” Jason swallowed. “You can put your hands down.” God, he wanted Roy’s hands on him.

But Roy shook his head and pointed behind Jason. Jason turned to see a sign on the back of the door: _NO TOUCHING THE PERFORMERS._

Roy lifted his hands and slowly put them behind his head. Of the two of them, he might have been the one who was fully clothed, but with his muscular arms up like that he looked like an offering on a silver platter. “ _You_ can do whatever you want, though,” he said, and the desire in his voice was unmistakable.

“You don’t know what I want,” Jason muttered, although from the way his dick was fattening it was going to be very obvious in a minute.

“Don’t care.” Roy held his gaze. “It’s yours.”

Every fantasy Jason had ever had about Roy crashed into his head at once; every secret desire, every furtive masturbation session with Roy on the other side of the wall, in the next room, in the next _bed_. Roy said “it’s yours” like he meant _I’m yours_ , and Jason wished desperately that they were anywhere but here, in this horrible little room with god only knew how many horrible little eyes watching them.

And yet there was safety in the setting, too, because as long as Jason could pretend he was putting on a show he didn’t have to admit what he wanted. Not really.

“Yeah?” he asked, dragging his hands down from Roy’s shoulders to his chest and lower, feeling the strength in his pectorals, the way his flat stomach tensed. “And you won’t touch me, no matter what I do?”

Roy shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes again. “Nope. I’ll be a good boy, Jaybird, promise.”

Jason swung his leg off of Roy’s lap and stood up, walking around behind him, and bent down to trail his fingers along the waistband of his jeans. “But I can touch anywhere I want? Is that right?” he murmured.

Roy’s shiver was visible even from behind. “Anywhere,” he agreed, and Jason’s hands reversed their path along Roy’s torso, up over his stomach to his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples through his T-shirt and make him gasp. He tugged the elastic out of Roy’s hair and dragged his hands through it, watching the coppery strands slip through his fingers. It was just as soft as he’d always imagined it.

Roy tipped his head back into Jason’s touch. Jason wanted to trace his brows with his fingers; his cheekbones; his lips. Instead he gave Roy’s hair one last tug and walked back around to sit in his lap again, this time facing away. He arched his spine and rocked his ass back in time to the music. Belatedly he realized that he was essentially twerking in Roy’s lap, but from the punched-out sound Roy made, it was getting the job done, so Jason didn’t care. (As long as no one ever told Tim. Jason would never hear the end of it.)

“Fuck, your ass,” Roy breathed. “I changed my mind, this is how I want to go. Just sit on my face until I smother to death.”

Holy shit. “This death wish thing is new,” Jason said. Roy was hard now; had been before, maybe, but now it was impossible to miss. Jason could feel it beneath him, snugged up against Roy’s thigh. He wanted to see it.

Roy gave a shaky laugh. “Oh, trust me, wanting to eat you out is definitely not new.”

“I’d let you. _Fuck_.” Jason leaned back against Roy’s chest, tilting his head back against Roy’s shoulder, and rolled his hips into empty air. His own dick was straining against the thong, the head peeking out, and maybe that was what caused Roy’s sharp gasp.

“Gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous,” Roy said. Jason turned his head enough to see as much of Roy’s face as he could from here: the side of his nose, his ear, his cheek. He was close enough to make out the red-gold stubble on Roy’s skin and imagined how it would feel against his own face, between his thighs, between his _cheeks_.

But Roy wasn’t allowed to touch.

Jason could, though, and this position wasn’t letting him do nearly enough of that. He pushed up and turned around to face Roy again, spreading his thighs wide to straddle him. The movement proved too much for the thong; Jason’s dick slipped out entirely, standing up tall and proud while the overtaxed fabric stretched sideways across his balls.

“ _Jason_.” Roy’s biceps tightened visibly, like he had to fight not to reach down. “Baby. God, I want you in my mouth.”

Jason forced himself to laugh, because it was that or haul Roy off the chair and make him do exactly that, and that was against the rules. “You keep changing your mind. My thighs, my ass, my cock...you need to make up your mind what you want.”

“You,” Roy said. “Just you. All of you. Any way I can get you. Fuck, Jaybird, didn’t you know that?”

Jason had not, in fact, known that. Maybe it was clear on his face, because Roy’s arms came down for a minute as if to touch him before he remembered and put them back.

“I didn’t think the pole dance was _that_ good,” Jason said, but levity wasn’t going to save him now.

“It was, but it’s also irrelevant, because I’ve wanted you since Qurac.”

Roy’s eyes were dark with desire and totally earnest. Jason wanted to drown in them. “Roy…”

“Let me take you home,” Roy begged suddenly. “Let me make you feel so good, c’mon, baby, I want to show you how much I missed you.”

But his dick twitched under Jason’s thigh as he spoke, and Jason didn’t think he could let Roy out of this room with his work only halfway done. “Later,” he said, and started to move again, dragging himself very deliberately over Roy’s erection. “You paid for thirty minutes. You’re getting thirty minutes.”

Roy let out a shaky laugh. “It’s not gonna take that long,” he promised. “Fuck, Jay, they’re filming this.”

“We’ll come back and steal the footage,” Jason said, leaning in to kiss Roy’s throat. “We can watch it together.”

Roy groaned, and when Jason looked up he was tugging on his own hair like it was the only thing holding him back. Jason nipped at his jaw, rocking his hips faster. The denim was rough against the sensitive skin of his ass and thighs but he liked it, liked knowing he’d be a little raw tomorrow, that he’d have proof that this had happened.

His dick bumped against Roy’s belly with every shift forward, leaving little damp spots from precome all over the cotton. He pushed Roy’s T-shirt up towards his armpits, folding it over so it would stay, and was rewarded with the sight of Roy’s pale, toned abs, a little trail of fiery hair peeking out above his waistband.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jason said, adjusting the angle he was moving at so that every thrust slid his ass over Roy’s dick and his own dick against Roy’s abs. He managed to tear his eyes away from the sight of his cock against Roy’s stomach to look at Roy’s face, expecting a smirk—but Roy was flushed, visibly breathless, his lips parted. He was clearly close, closer than Jason had thought, and it sent a pleased little shudder through Jason. _He_ had done that.

“Jason,” Roy panted. “Please...I can’t…”

“You gonna come in your pants for me?” Jason asked. “Make a mess of yourself just for me?”

Roy’s eyes fluttered closed. “Was… _fuck_...really trying not to. Hh...I like these jeans.”

“I’ll wash them for you.” Jason brought his hands up to cup Roy’s face, and Roy’s eyes opened again. Jason really wanted to kiss that perfect pink mouth, but that was against the rules, right up there with not touching the performers.

Of course, grinding to completion in the private rooms was probably also against the rules, but this was only Jason’s first lap dance, so who knew?

“You said I could have anything I wanted,” Jason said, and he _felt_ Roy gasp beneath his hands, the hitch in his throat. “I want to make you come. So do it.”

He ground down harder. Roy’s hips snapped up, the most he’d moved since he’d put his hands behind his head, and his mouth fell open on a low, shuddering moan as he came.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jason breathed. His own cock _ached_ , and he shifted forward to thrust himself harder against Roy, feeling the aftershocks rippling through his stomach muscles.

“Jaybird,” Roy said. His voice was hoarse and his arms hung down behind the chair like he was too tired to hold them up anymore, but his gaze hadn’t lost any of its heat. “That’s so good, baby. Fuck yourself on me. Use me.”

“God, Roy…” Jason panted, using his hand to press his dick to Roy’s stomach, to get more friction.

“So fucking beautiful,” Roy said. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, god, the things I’m gonna do to you…”

“I can’t...I’m so…”

“It’s okay,” Roy said, and _there_ was the smirk Jason had been expecting, so gorgeous and sly that he felt it in his _dick_. “I’m already soaked. Go ahead and come on me.”

Jason muffled his wail in the curve of Roy’s shoulder as he obeyed, painting Roy’s perfect abs with his come. Roy kept his arms down but he nuzzled the shell of Jason’s ear while Jason shook and panted, murmuring sweet and filthy things that Jason tried desperately to remember so that he could insist that Roy make good on them later.

Finally he sat up straight. Roy looked thoroughly debauched, his hair wild, his stomach dripping, and a wet patch on his jeans. Jason considered the possibility that he was in love.

“Here’s a question,” Roy said. “How the hell are we supposed to get out of here like this?”

Jason pursed his lips thoughtfully, then slid off of Roy’s lap and onto his knees in front of him. Pushing Roy’s legs apart so that he could get closer, he leaned in and dragged his tongue through the mess on Roy’s stomach. “How’s this?”

“Holy shit,” Roy said, muscles jumping under Jason’s ministrations. “Yeah, that’ll work, but hurry up or I’m gonna have to go again before we leave.”

If Jason had ever seriously considered that he would ever have the opportunity to lick come off of Rob’s abs, he would have liked to have taken his time, but it sounded like Roy intended for there to be plenty more leisurely replays in the future, so he concentrated instead on getting the bulk of it and not how _right_ it felt to be on his knees between Roy’s legs. Once Roy was mostly clean, Jason stood up and tucked his now soft cock back into the thong.

Roy stood up, too, and pulled his T-shirt down. “Okay, not bad. I guess there’s nothing we can do about the wet spot.”

Jason smirked. “Sure there is,” he said, and reached under the chair for the abandoned seltzer.

Then he tossed it at Roy’s crotch.

“What the hell!” Roy said, looking down at his soaked lap. “How is this better?”

Jason shrugged. “Do you want to look like a creep who came in your pants watching strippers, or do you want to look like you spilled your drink?”

“Neither!”

“Well, that wasn’t an option.” Jason bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, although he could tell Roy wasn’t really upset. “I’ll make it up to you. Now go on, get out of here and wait for me by the back entrance. I have to get dressed.”

“Must you?” Roy asked, recovering his good humor. “Yeah, okay. See you in a minute.”

Jason didn’t bother to tell anyone he was leaving, just dressed as quickly as possible and slipped out the back exit. The second he stepped outside, Roy pulled him inside a kiss. Jason melted into it, letting Roy lick his way into his mouth, his hands tangling in Roy’s already wild hair.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Roy said when he pulled back, his hands roaming over Jason’s ass like he was desperate to make up for not being allowed to touch. “I take you back to my place and fuck you into the mattress. Tomorrow I make you breakfast, and then we find Gazzo and kick his weaselly crime boss ass, and then you fuck _me_ into the mattress.”

“ _I’ll_ make breakfast. You can’t make toast without burning it,” Jason said, grinning at him. “The rest sounds good.”

Roy kissed him again, so sweetly it made Jason’s chest tighten. “I’m really glad you found your way here, Jaybird,” he murmured.

“Me too,” Jason said, letting Roy take his hand and pull him towards the parking lot.

He had a feeling Roy would be even gladder when he found out Jason had kept the thong.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe Jason had sex in borrowed underwear and then stole it, smh. A criminal.
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr!](https://pluckyredhead.tumblr.com/)


End file.
